


169. in the distance

by piggy09



Series: The Sestre Daily Drabble Project [1]
Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Gen, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2016-07-01
Packaged: 2018-07-19 08:19:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7353193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piggy09/pseuds/piggy09
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Helena and Sarah set up a tent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	169. in the distance

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, and welcome to the Sestre Daily Drabble Project! One drabble of Helena and Sarah every day until Season 5 of Orphan Black starts airing. Prompts from [this list](http://inkstay.tumblr.com/post/143937584209/dare-to-write-challenge). Enjoy Day 1!

Sarah parks the truck and Helena gets out, shakes her legs, and then immediately and with no great ceremony climbs on top of the hood of the truck. She throws her hand to her forehead, a salute to no one, and squints off into the distance like she’s trying very hard to impersonate some discoverer she saw on television once.

“Get down from there,” Sarah says, getting out the tent from the trunk. She can’t quite crush the strain in her muscles from the constant held-breath fear. It’s terrifying. Being in the same car as Helena, for this long. She doesn’t know if or when Helena’s going to snap.

“I can see the city,” Helena says proudly. “In the distance.” She flaps her hand wildly until Sarah looks over, and then points with the eagerness of a hunting dog. “There.”

“Yeah, we’re not that far,” Sarah says neutrally while she starts trying to figure out how the tent works. Shit. The poles go in the ground, right? And then you drape the tent bit…on top?

Behind her Helena hops off the truck. “I have never been outside the city,” she says, “here, in this country. I like these trees.”

“That’s great,” Sarah says, but before the words are all the way out of her mouth one of the tent poles slaps her in the face. “ _Shite_ ,” she yelps, and drops the tent with a sad _whumph_.

Helena’s fingers touch her face and Sarah leaps three feet backwards, hand already going for the pistol at her belt. They both freeze. Helena’s hand is hanging out in space, gentle fingertips, and Sarah’s fingers are thisclose to curling around her gun.

Helena drops her hand faster. Faster than Sarah does.

“You’re hurt,” she says, her eyes wide and her voice full to the brim with fear. “I’m sorry, I didn’t – you’re hurt, I didn’t – I’m sorry.” She hops backwards, hands twisting around themselves like snakes.

“It’s fine,” Sarah says. “Just – shit, don’t sneak up on me, yeah?”

“Sorry,” Helena whispers again. Sarah can feel a headache starting to pound at her temples. She’s not going to say _it’s fine_ again, so she goes back to the tent. Stupid bloody awful tent, stupid bloody awful _camping trip_ —

“I think,” Helena says, feet clomping loudly and obviously on the ground as she approaches, “you put the poles. Through the little loops.” She comes closer and looks at Sarah – asking for permission – before she starts threading the pole through the metal ring. Partway through she collapses herself on the ground, sits cross-legged. Sarah, next to her, starts doing the same thing she is. Because why not.

“You done this before?” she asks, olive branch.

Helena shrugs, and doesn’t answer. Sarah tries to picture Helena living in the woods somewhere. Can’t do it. Goes back to her tentpole. The tent is starting to rise, lopsided but there. Sarah realizes they’re going to be sleeping in it, _next to each other_ , and feels a surge of panic so hard she thinks she’s going to cry. What if Helena tries to hug her in her sleep. What if Helena tries to kill her. Worse: what if she doesn’t do either of those things.

Around them nighttime is coming; unfamiliar birds whistle in the trees, and Sarah can hear the flapping of distant wings. Can’t say for sure if it’s bird or bat or something completely unknown. Treetop angels. In front of her the tent has risen, and Helena scrambles through the doorway and inside. Sarah can hear her rustling around in there. It’s dark; she hasn’t brought the lantern yet. She’ll need to make a few trips to the truck.

Helena’s head pops out, the sight of it so funny between the tent flaps that Sarah can’t help snorting. When Helena hears the sound she beams, wide and toothy. “Sarah,” she says.

“Yeah?”

“I am glad. That you are here with me. Camping.”

“Yeah,” Sarah says, a lump in her throat, “yeah, me too.”

Helena grins at her again, and then her head pops back inside.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please kudos + comment if you enjoyed! :)


End file.
